


Spring of Youth

by Dayun



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Greek Religion & Lore Fusion, Demeter is kinda mean in this, Fluff and Angst, Inspired by Hades and Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), M/M, Wonpil is Persephone, Young K is Hades, of course he is, this is fake deep y'all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-05 19:04:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19046506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dayun/pseuds/Dayun
Summary: The first time Wonpil sees him, he’s not supposed to be there.He watches a few petals fly away with the wind, tracing their path to the very edge of his old realm. There he sees him, standing dark and opposing amongst a field of bodies, souls whisping around him in despair until they are swallowed in the shadows that surround him. Then he turns around, his gaze meeting Wonpil’s and Wonpil’s heart stops.





	Spring of Youth

**Author's Note:**

> ha ha here I am writing another youngfeel fanfic when I should seriously be studying. I tried a bit of a different writing style here, but I hope you can still enjoy it.

 

There is chaos and confusion, a state Olympus hasn’t faced in a long time as whispers spread with rumours. Someone was taken, stolen away when no one looked. The goddess of harvest is livid, wrecking havoc on her way as she refuses her duties.

But that is not all there is to it.

Indeed someone gets stolen and someone steals, but not in the way that the whispers indicate. Before that, there are two gods and one shared glance.

 

* * *

 

The first time Wonpil sees him, he’s not supposed to be there.

Humans wage wars, their cities burning as brightly as the sun, and songs about heroes fill the air shortly followed by the cries of mothers and soldiers alike. The gods watch upon the mortals in disapproval, glee, boredom, every single emotion there is but not stopping them, not unless it will affect them personally.

His own mother frowns at the events happening and the gods’ inaction, yet she doesn’t do anything herself. She only confines Wonpil to a small meadow within the borders of her realm, far away from the battles in the mortal world. She tells him it’s for his own good, to keep him safe, but he only feels more caged in. His mother is restricting in her protectiveness, always restricting, never benevolent.

And Wonpil is a good son, a gentle soul, and he listens to her wishes always. Yet one day he can’t ignore it anymore, can’t ignore how he can feel the flowers and leaves cry for him from far away, the nature weeping and hurting under the fire and destruction that the humans are putting them through in their mindless wars.

So quietly he steals away from his mother’s grasps for one evening, leaving the meadow that he isn’t supposed to set a foot away from. But his mother won’t, doesn't, notice, for her son is a good son and would never refuse her words. And it is in that lack of attention that Wonpil runs towards the fields he once roamed. Fields that are now a deep black and grey as ash rains down on it from the sky and coals burn where once flowers had bloomed and grass had grown.

He touches the remnants of what is left, the plants sighing as they lean into his touch and he tries not to cry, his tears sprouting into new buds as they hit the ground. He caresses the burnt leaves gently and slowly they regain their colour and grow new stems and roots. The grass under him starts to sing again with every step he takes, and slowly the field around him comes to life again, vines and roots covering broken weapons and shutter. The flowers bend towards him and as the wind picks up on the once dead place again to carry his song.

Wonpil watches a few petals fly away with the wind, tracing their path to the very edge of his old realm. There he sees him, standing dark and opposing amongst a field of bodies, souls whisping around him in despair until they are swallowed in the shadows that surround him. The petals he had been watching are carried towards him and he catches one, grasping it in his hand softly, almost as if to not hurt it, and studies it silently.

Then he turns around, his gaze meeting Wonpil’s and Wonpil’s heart stops. He knows he should be afraid of him, should heed his mother’s warnings about him, should be intimidated by his tall form. Yet he is lost in the sharp eyes that look back at him intensely, the leaves and grass around him rustling lightly in the wind.

They look at each other, gazes never wavering and immortal hearts beating in sync. And for a moment Wonpil feels like he found a kindred soul, someone that mirrors his own emotions of loneliness and captivity, the long stretch of land between them reducing to nothing.

But then he feels his flowers calling for him, calling from the meadow he is restricted to far away and singing of his mother’s presence closing in, and he breaks his gaze away, turning to run back reluctantly.

He spares one last glance over his shoulder to see him still looking, and the flowers around him turn a pure white in his steps.

 

* * *

 

He returns again a few moons later, unable to forget the piercing eyes. The grass bends to his touch as he cards through it with the tips of his fingers, kneeling down to kiss a small rose bush gently. Flowers immediately start to bloom on its stems, the buds opening to him with a sigh.

Far away he spots him again, his back turned towards him and Wonpil hides behind the fresh shrubbery. He watches the other god with wide eyes, his breath held. Around him smoke still wafts from the ruins and blood still seeps from wounds of corpses piled up new.

The other looks at the wreckage around him bitterly, and in that moment he looks so tired, Wonpil’s heart aches for him. Death seems to surround him wherever he goes, painting the world around him in darkness and cold. It scares Wonpil, terrifies him even. But he also knows what loneliness looks like.

Biting his lips, Wonpil gathers a bit of earth in his palm before enclosing it and kissing his fist gently. Then he opens it again and softly blows the earth away, the wind carrying it with it and towards where the other god is standing. Immediately daffodils start to sprout from where the grains have landed.

Wonpil smiles at the flecks of colour and life surrounding the other god and quickly leaves again, hoping that he could give him a bit of comfort.

He misses how the other bends down, studying the flowers and cradling them carefully like they were something precious.

 

* * *

 

Wonpil lies in between grass and flowers, his hand dipping into the pond in his meadow and creating small ripples in the clear water. The sun shines down on him warmly, his simple tunic rustling in the wind as he is lost in thought.

The battles the mortals wage leave much damage in their wake, even more when one of the gods has meddled with it. The field where he had seen him is just one of many places destroyed by it. And Wonpil knows that they send him to do their dirty work. It bothers him, how they use the god of the underworld like some underling, yet they still fear him so much.

A waterlily bends towards him, caresses his cheeks softly, and Wonpil turns to listen to its whispers. The other flowers start to whisper to him as well, carrying a message to him with the wind that someone is at the edge of his meadow.

Wonpil quickly sits up, the petals in his hair shaking lightly with the motion. He cranes his neck to try and get a better look of his surroundings, peers into the dark of the woods surrounding his clearing. But he sees no one around him, only his plants and the light shining down on his fair skin.

He wonders if perhaps his mother had done a quick check-up on him, but the grass around him rustles in denial. He frowns in confusion and asks who it was, but they can only tell him that they were hidden in shadows, drawing in all the light around them.

 

* * *

 

He stands behind his mother’s seat, mostly hidden from view. Usually he doesn’t spend a lot of time in Olympus, prefers the company of his garden more than that of the other gods. And usually he isn’t needed often up here with him being a minor deity. But his mother is an important role, has a word in almost everything, and the person be warned that does not bend to her will. And Wonpil is her pride and joy (and prisoner), and if there’s one thing she hates, then it’s Wonpil being far away from her and out of her sight.

So here he is, silently watching from the background as the gods of Olympus finally hold council about what to do with the wars in the human realm. Wonpil doesn’t really listen to their talks, doesn’t like to involve himself with the gods’ plays and plans.

His attention is only drawn when the ground crackles near the entrance of the hall and seemingly starts to suck in the light as darkness spreads from that point.

Silence immediately settles in the room as the god of the underworld enters, and Wonpil’s breath catches. Clad in all black attire and shadows wafting from him like smoke in his leave, power oozes from him as he takes his seat right by Zeus’ side and completes the top of the rulers of the three realms.

The other gods shift slightly in discomfort of his presence, but Wonpil peeks around his mother to get a better look. The talks resume, but Wonpil is too distracted to mind them.

“Younghyun, you will take care of it then?”

Somehow the god of the underworld looks even more closed off than when Wonpil had seen him on that field and he only nods silently at his brother in acknowledgment. His dark hair doesn’t reflect any light with the movement, so very much unlike Wonpil’s own.

He is so lost in thought, he doesn’t notice how much he has stepped out from behind his mother’s seat until she nudges him back behind her, shielding him from prying eyes as they turn to look at the rare beauty normally hidden away by his mother. She glares at them all and they cower back immediately. Wonpil quickly hides himself again, but not before he locks gazes with impossibly dark eyes.

 

* * *

 

The water is soothing to his skin as he pulls himself out of the pond by the edge, having just taken a small dip to cool himself down. His white tunic clings to his wet skin as the light reflects on it, makes him glimmer in an ethereal light. Wonpil smooths his wet hair from his forehead and a few petals fall from it.

His tunic is still wet and almost translucent from the water as he lays down in the sun to dry himself. He lounges by the water’s edge, making a circlet of flowers and humming softly while he waits for his skin and robe to dry when he hears it.

There’s a mumbling coming from the woods, the leaves rustling to warn him of a presence hidden within them. But when he looks closer he can only see shadows and darkness where the light doesn’t reach in the deep of the forest.

“I know you’re there,” He calls out softly, “Please, reveal yourself.”

As if on command the shadows part and a dark figure steps out. Wonpil gasps when the smoke wafts and reveals Younghyun from behind it. Wonpil immediately sits up, his tunic slipping off one rosy shoulder with the movement.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was you.” The words tumble out of his mouth as he tries to straighten his tunic that still sticks to his body, wet skin glowing in the golden light. “I thought perhaps a being of the forest…”

Now that the other god isn’t in hiding anymore, the powerful aura radiating off him is palpable, making his identity clear.

Younghyun bows his head politely in return, expression unreadable. “It’s me who needs to apologize, I didn’t want to startle you.”

Wonpil bites his lip before he gets up and slowly walks towards the edge of his meadow. The other stands a few steps away, keeping distance between them and not entering his mother’s realm – a wise decision on his part. “What brought you here?” Wonpil asks curiously.

The elder stays silent for a while, seems to contemplate what to answer before he states calmly, “I heard singing and I became curious what was calling to me from Demeter’s realm.”

At that Wonpil blinks up at him, his lips curling into a coy smile. “Calling for you?” He giggles. The foliage from the woods rustles at the sound, reaching out towards Wonpil, yearning for his touch.

“Is it your first time here?”

The furrow of Younghyun’s brows is enough answer for Wonpil and he bites his lips to contain a smile before he breaks out in soft laughter.

The sound is like bells chiming to a melody, flowers seemingly opening up to the music. Wonpil smiles brightly at Younghyun, eyes and skin glittering in the sunlight that seems to shine solely on him. Younghyun’s fingers twitch.

 

* * *

 

The sun is warm on his fair skin, making it shine golden as he stretches. The grass around him nuzzles him softly where he lies to watch the clouds. It lulls him into comfort and he ends up falling asleep in the warmth.

When Wonpil wakes up again, it’s to dark smoke wafting in from one side, curling around the edges of his clearing but not quiet entering. He turns to see Younghyun standing close but not crossing the border.

Wonpil looks up at him, cold and emotionless face looking back down at him. He is breathtakingly handsome. Wonpil smiles.

“I’m glad that you’re back.”

“I’m the god your mother warned you about.” Is what Younghyun tells him in return. Wonpil sits up, the flower crown on his head slightly crooked and Younghyun itches to right it.

“She warned me about all of them,” Wonpil says and glances at the shadows that dance around the other’s feet. Younghyun gets down to his knees to be at the same eyelevel and Wonpil automatically inches closer.

“I couldn’t forget you.” Younghyun confesses quietly, darkness drawing in around him.

Up close his aura is even more oppressing. It isn’t unsettling though, and Wonpil isn’t afraid. He smiles at the thought that Younghyun came to see him. Younghyun, the god who never left the under world unless commanded, came up to the surface just for him.

Wonpil inches even closer, edging the border of his clearing. Younghyun doesn’t move or reach out, but Wonpil still notices the twitch in his hand.

“Won’t you stay for a while and keep me company?” Wonpil asks softly, his cheeks a lovely rose colour and looking up at Younghyun with round eyes. And how can Younghyun deny him anything?

 

That night Younghyun sleeps restless, the memory of a warm smile not leaving him, and he dreams he had the courage to reach out.

 

* * *

 

Wonpil is once again lounging by the pond, feet dipping in the water as he weaves another flower-crown. The petals are soft under his fingers when he binds them together into a perfect circle. Just when he has finished the leaves around him start to rustle, announcing the arrival of a visitor. And as if on cue the darkness of the forest parts and Younghyun steps out, just as regal and tall as always.

With a smile Wonpil quickly stands up to greet the other by the border of his clearing. But before he can say anything, Younghyun pulls out something from beneath his cloak and presents Wonpil with a bouquet of flowers, white petals radiant in contrast to the dark gloved hand that holds them.

“For me?” Wonpil breaths out in wonder and takes them when Younghyun only nods. Wonpil nuzzles into the petals and takes in their sweet scent, the flowers coming to life in his hands again.

Younghyun has never been a poet, but he has never wanted to be a flower so much like in that moment.

“They reminded me of you.” He whispers as he watches the younger’s eyes crinkle in joy.

Heat rises to Wonpil’s cheeks and he beckons Younghyun closer who immediately steps forward, toeing the edge of the forest.

Wonpil peeks up at him from beneath his lashes with a coy smile. “Do you know what flowers these are?”

In turn Younghyun only shakes his head and Wonpil hides his giggles behind the bouquet. The sound is full of innocence and youth and Younghyun feels like a mortal.

“They’re gardenias,” Wonpil tells him softly, a light blush dusting his cheeks. “They symbolize purity and sweetness.”

At that Younghyun’s endlessly dark eyes glimmer and for the first time Wonpil sees his lips curl into a smile, a smile so gentle it makes his immortal heart melt.

“How fitting then,” Younghyun whispers, “That I was thinking of you.”

Wonpil scuffs the ground with his feet shyly, when he looks back up Younghyun can almost see the sky in his eyes. “There is another meaning.”

“Love,” He whispers while he strokes the white petals softly and they seem to preen under his touch. “A love you want to keep secret from others.”

Even though his throat is dry, Younghyun swallows at the words. Wonpil bites his lip bashfully and steps closer towards the edge of his meadow, so close to the other that their toes almost touch. Younghyun takes a reluctant step back and Wonpil frowns.

“You shouldn’t come close to me.”

“I’m not afraid of you.” Wonpil says softly and reaches out to take the other’s gloved hand. Younghyun doesn’t pull it back.

“You should be. Everything I touch will rot and die.” Younghyun breaths out but Wonpil only shakes his head.

“That’s not true, you would never hurt me,” Wonpil takes off Younghyun’s glove carefully and places his cold hand on his rosy cheek. “See?”

Younghyun’s breath hitches, warmth spreading from his palm, a warmth he has never felt before. Wonpil is so warm and beautiful, Younghyun can feel his heart leaping out to the younger. Wonpil closes his eyes as Younghyun cradles his face carefully, so careful like he was something precious, and he nuzzles into the touch.

All around them the flowers open their petals to shine on them.

 

* * *

 

Leaves of the shrubbery from the forest stretch towards him and caress his cheek softly where he’s sitting at the edge just in reach. Red and white interweave beautifully in the circlet he’s making.

“You’re staring, you know?” Wonpil giggles lightly and turns towards Younghyun who doesn’t avert his gaze.

They’re sitting close to each other, so close they almost touch but far away enough that they don’t, the border between them a fine line. This close he can feel the cold radiating from Younghyun, not clashing but interweaving with his own warmth just like the flowers in his hand.

“Why do you spend time with me?”

Wonpil smiles lightly and instead of answering places the flower-crown on Younghyun’s head. The flowers are a stark contrast to his dark hair and Younghyun should feel ridiculous, but with the way Wonpil’s eyes twinkle up at him he feels anything but.

“Do you know what kind of flowers they are?”  The younger asks him softly, still not answering his question.

“They’re tulips,” Younghyun says, and Wonpil leans forward with a grin so bright it puts the sun to shame.

“Do you know their meaning?” Younghyun stays silent with a light shake of his head as Wonpil bites his lip shyly. He feels transparent and small in front of the other, yet also so safe and free like he hasn’t felt in a long time. “They signify a declaration of love.”

Younghyun’s heart stutters like a mortal’s as Wonpil places his hand atop of his, his skin soft like honey to the touch. He feels flowers bloom in his chest and wonders if Wonpil has put them there intentionally.

Wonpil looks up at him with his eyes slightly crossed, face open and defenseless as he lays his emotions bare to Younghyun in answer to his first question.

When Younghyun kisses him, he thinks this is what life must feel like as Wonpil leans into him, opening up like a flower to the sun under his touch. He grips Wonpil’s nape softly, cradling him close, and never wants to let go again.

Zealously he presses their lips together, desperate to feel Wonpil’s warmth and the younger clings to him just as desperately. Their kiss is filled with a longing for something that only they can give each other but have no way to how.

When they part, they still linger in each other’s orbit, foreheads resting together and eyes closed as they just breathe and take in the other’s presence. Wonpil rubs their noses together lovingly and Younghyun lets out a rare laugh as he interweaves their fingers.

“I’ve never felt like this before.” He confesses quietly and Wonpil’s heart soars, beating rapidly like a hummingbird’s.

“You give me freedom that was taken from me so long ago,” Wonpil whispers into the small space between them.

“You make me feel free in a place I have never felt so,” Younghyun finishes for him. The words sit heavy and cold in his chest as he swallows, the love they feel dragged down by the fear that restricts it.

They lean impossibly closer, Younghyun’s breath fanning his lips and Wonpil’s eyelashes tracing his cheek. “I’m afraid.” He whispers softly, voice dripping with emotions as he squeezes Younghyun’s hand tightly. “I’m afraid of what she will do to you.”

Younghyun squeezes back, their hands lying precariously on the border between realms. “She can try whatever she wants,” he breaths against Wonpil’s cheek, “I’m more scared of what she will do to you.” _That she will take you away._

Wonpil lets out a small sob and Younghyun pulls him close, careful that they don’t cross the border, never cross the border.

 

* * *

 

“I came to warn you,” says Sungjin and Younghyun scowls at him. He is standing by his throne, face neutral but arms crossed.

“Why are you threatening me?” Younghyun asks him, voice harsh and cold, yet his heart is beating erratically. He asks even though he knows exactly why the elder is here. But Sungjin just shakes his head.

“I’m not threatening you, I’m warning you.” And they both know he speaks the truth. “You’re taking something that’s not from your world and they will notice. _She_ will notice.”

Younghyun’s hands ball into fists and Sungjin smiles at him in sympathy. “I’m not taking him.”

“But you’re taking his heart,” Sungjin says, his voice softening on the edges and Younghyun lets out a shaky breath at the truth. And the truth it is, for Sungjin sees everything and knows him too well.

“I’ve never asked for anything before.” He whispers hoarsely, a tightness building in his throat as Wonpil’s melodic laughter replays in his mind.

Back then he took what was given, took what no one wanted of the three realms and rules with pride, wears his crown with his head held high. He has never let himself be bothered by the cage that he calls his kingdom, has never minded the cold and darkness. But now that he has come to see light, to have touched it, _loved_ it, the darkness becomes ever more oppressing, the eternal silence smothering in its emptiness.

Sungjin moves closer to him and plucks a stray pink petal from his robe. “I’ve known you since I delivered the first soul to you, and never have I seen anything bright or colourful on you.”

He places the petal in Younghyun’s hand and Younghyun encloses it tightly. “But it suits you.”

“She will take him away.” He breaths out harshly, but Sungjin only smiles at him.

“Then do so before she can.”

 

* * *

 

Wonpil strokes the flower bush softly, watches happily as they preen to his touch.

“You’ve been thinking of me quite a lot, haven’t you?” He gives a small smile, the question more a simple statement.

Younghyun steps out of the forest and coughs lightly, Wonpil’s question catching him off-guard. “What makes you think so?” He asks, there is no use denying it since they both know the obvious truth.

In turns Wonpil motions to his small meadow, fingers stroking the small white blossoms that surround him.

“Clover,” he grins up at Younghyun, small dimples forming on his cheeks and eyes crescent and shining like the moon. “They tell me you’re always thinking of me.”

Younghyun comes to kneel down in front of him, only an invisible boundary separating them. “And what do these flowers tell you?” He asks softly and holds out a bundle of stems with small purple flowers to him.

Wonpil’s eyes widen when he takes the bouquet from him, his fingers trembling lightly. The trees around them sway in a breeze that isn’t there, leaves shaking fretfully.

“Heliotrope…” Wonpil whispers breathlessly.

Younghyun reaches out and cups his hands in a cold yet so warm grip. “Eternal love.”

He leans in, always orbiting around Wonpil like he’s his own personal sun, and he is. The younger’s eyes shake, wetness gathering in them and Younghyun’s heart lurches when tears glisten and run down rosy cheeks. Even in sorrow Wonpil is beautiful, yet Younghyun’s heart can’t take it.

“What is it? Did I upset you? Is this too much?” He asks in worry, his composure falling for the first time in centuries.

Wonpil gives a small shake of his head, tears dripping down like rain drops in the spring as he squeezes his eyes shut. “It’s not fair-“

 Younghyun cradles his hands close to his chest, his immortal heart beating erratically like a mortal’s under Wonpil’s delicate wrists.

“They will never allow it, _she_ will never allow it.” Wonpil sobs, “She will destroy you before we can truly be together.”

“I don’t care!” Younghyun pulls him closer, presses him against his chest so strong their hearts are almost touching above the border that always separates them. “She can do whatever she wants to me, I can take her on.”

He cups Wonpil’s cheeks, holds the sun, his whole universe in his cold hands as he leans their foreheads together, takes in a stuttering breath.

“What is immortal life good for if I can’t spent it with you?”

The words resonate deeply in Wonpil’s fragile heart and he cries, cries as he kisses Younghyun, cries as he winds his arms around the elder’s neck, cries as he pulls him closer, pulls him over the border and into the meadow. They hold onto each other, never wanting to let go when they can be together in this moment.

Younghyun takes off his tunic carefully, unwraps him like the most precious treasure in all realms. Wonpil is pliant to his touch, almost feverish as cold hands roam his body and he shivers, not from the cold but from a fire burning within.

Golden skin feels like honey under his fingertips and Younghyun tries to memorize every inch in his reach, soaks it all in with hungry eyes. It’s overwhelming, the hot touch almost burning to his own chilled skin, but instead it only leaves him craving for more.

So he spreads Wonpil out for himself underneath the sun surrounded by flowers outshined by his beauty. And Wonpil opens up to him so beautifully as he takes him, like a bud opening its petals to the world for the very first time.

“Younghyun, _please_ ,” Wonpil begs, for what he does not know. But Younghyun knows, knows that he would give Wonpil anything he will ask for just to hear the breathlessness in his voice as he calls out for him, shakes apart beneath him.

And so he does, presses close and gives Wonpil all of him and Wonpil takes it all, takes all of him in with a cry more beautiful than anything the muses could ever compose.

Afterwards they lie beside each other in the meadow, Younghyun watching Wonpil’s finger trace patterns on his still naked chest that only he can see. A few white flowers lean towards the younger, almost sighing at the warmth radiating from his glowing skin. Younghyun has never seen anything or anyone so ethereal.

Wonpil giggles as the petals tickle his skin. “They’re disappointed,” The younger informs him, flower-crown crooked on his head and Younghyun reaches out to right it.

“The lilies? What do they stand for?”

“Oh you know, beauty, purity,” Younghyun swallows as Wonpil pauses and smiles up at him coyly, “Virginity.”

Younghyun coughs and Wonpil laughs in delight before the elder rolls them over with a playful growl and kisses him, his smile tasting like honey and sunshine on his lips.

 

* * *

 

The forest rustles in the strong wind, branches reaching out to him as he weeps. His flowers lean into him weakly and he cups them, tries to give them new life but they only lie limply in his hands. Wonpil knows what this means, hears what the plants are whispering to him.

He knew that their love wouldn’t go unnoticed, that they couldn’t keep it hidden forever; not after Younghyun has entered his meadow, has crossed the border that his mother has so strictly set.

He knows that she will come for him, that he doesn’t have much time left here before she takes him away. Somewhere Younghyun won’t be able to find him, to reach him. And it hurts so much, the thought that he will never see Younghyun again ripping his immortal yet so fragile heart apart.

A strong gust of wind sets the leaves around him off into restless shaking and Wonpil buries his face in his hands to hide his tears, fears the incoming presence. Footsteps near him and he reluctantly looks up. He doesn’t want to leave, not yet, not when he was supposed to spent eternity together with Younghyun.

His heart lurches out of his throat when a tall and familiar figure steps out of the shadows instead of the one he had dreaded.

With eyes lighting up at the sight of Younghyun, Wonpil smiles brightly at him through his tears, happy that he can see him one last time. That is until he sees the pink flowers in Younghyun’s hand and his eyes widen in shock.

“Younghyun,” he whispers, looking at the other standing a few steps away from the border of his meadow with shaking heart. “Are you aware of their meaning?”

“I am,” Is his answers, gaze unwavering in his determination and love. “I have never wanted or asked for anything. But just once,” He whispers in a broken voice, “Just once do I want to be selfish.”

Younghyun holds out his hand but doesn’t step closer, gives Wonpil the choice.

“I want to steal you, Wonpil, I want to steal you and give you the freedom you deserve.”

And this time it’s Wonpil who crosses the border, runs into Younghyun’s cold arms that make him feel safer than he’s ever felt before, make him feel free. The pink cleomes fall to the ground as Younghyun catches him in a searing kiss before he steals him away, far away where no one can ever reach him.

 

* * *

 

They lie side by side in the garden he has created in the underworld just for Wonpil, basking in each other’s presence and spending one more day together in their shared eternity. The trees around them are lush with fruit and the flowers more breath-taking than they have ever been before, the plants flourishing in Wonpil’s care.

“Sungjin came by to deliver a message today,” Younghyun says softly and Wonpil props himself up on the elder’s chest to look him in the eyes. “Your mother is refusing her duties still and more and more souls are entering the underworld.”

Wonpil worries his bottom-lip and Younghyun leans up to give them a light peck, unable to resist the temptation. It does little to sooth the worry in his heart though.

“They want me to send you back.”

Wonpil frowns. “Now they’re pretending to finally care for the humans.”

Younghyun rolls them over, holding himself up on his elbows as he hovers above Wonpil. He cups his cheek softly and Wonpil leans into the touch, the sight so much like how Younghyun has watched flowers lean into the younger so often.

“They might be pretending, but you are not.” He tells him knowingly and Wonpil bites his lips.

“I don’t want to leave you.” He whispers quietly and Younghyun kisses his forehead softly, memorizes the warmth and softness of Wonpil’s skin.

“I’m sorry,” Younghyun says, voice breaking. But Wonpil only leans up and presses his lips against his in a tender kiss that leaves Younghyun breathless.

“I’m not. I’ll never be sorry for choosing you.”

“They won’t let you come back.” His voice breaks with each syllable and it hurts. It hurts in a way his immortal heart isn’t supposed to.

In turn Wonpil only shakes his head and grasps something hanging above their heads. “They will.”

With his small and delicate fingers he breaks the pomegranate into two and Younghyun watches with wide eyes as the red juice drips down his wrist. Younghyun licks the trail of juice from his skin, savouring the sweet taste that comes not from the fruit but from honey coloured skin.

Wonpil holds up a seed to his lips and Younghyun takes it between his teeth before leaning down to feed Wonpil the fruit. Sweetness bursts on his tongue, quickly followed by Younghyun as he licks into his mouth.

Wonpil giggles, pure happiness that only Younghyun can give him filling his chest. Younghyun smiles down at him, at the flowers in his hair, at the bright smile that manages to warm even his frozen heart.

And in their love they find freedom.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> cleomes (spider flowers) - asking someone to elope/run away with them  
> daffodils - new life/beginnings
> 
> IMPORTANT NOTE:  
> I noticed when talking with a friend that the scene with the cleomes is a lot like the one from the JJP fanfic "hell for the company" by @subsequenz (the story is amazing omg you should definitely read it if you're a jjp fan it's beautiful) but I only noticed after writing it. And I honestly spent a lot of time researching flowers and developing the plot, so I really didn't want to throw it away and change it last minute. I DID NOT steal the plot or copy any of the writing. So please read it with that in mind, thank you.
> 
> Anyway I hope you liked this!  
> Please do tell me what you thought of it!! Thank you for reading!!


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